Choices Foreseen
by Amyranth
Summary: AU. Slight OotP spoilers. What if Voldemort’s servant heard the whole prophecy that night? What if Voldemort knew about the power? What if he waited for the two fated children to grow up instead? But when the time comes, who will he choose? HIATUS
1. Prologue A Change in Fate

**Dedication- I dedicate this story to my wonderful friend Emma: May our friendship last across space and time.**

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful J.K.Rowling. Please do not sue me. However, all characters, ideas and basically anything you don't recognise belong to me. Please refrain from copying. Thank you._  
  
Summary: AU. Slight OotP spoilers. What if Voldemort's servant heard the whole prophecy that night? What if Voldemort knew about the power? What if he waited for the two fated children to grow up instead? But when the time comes, who will he choose?  
  
Prologue- A Change in Fate.  
  
The night was dark. There was no moon tonight, nor stars. There were no street lamps in the little alley. The only light visible was a pair of scarlet dots that hung in mid-air. No body was out but it wasn't the night that frightened them. It was something far darker, far more terrifying than a moonless night. No one was safe in the bright daylight, let alone night. And it was the pair of scarlet dots that threatened everything good and pure in the world.  
  
Voldemort waited, his patience wearing thin. Patience was something the Dark Lord lacked severely. It was just one of those traits that Voldemort thought as useless and did not bother to exercise himself in. Though sometimes, impatience was the key to the undoing of many of his plans, he would never admit it to anyone, even himself. Such a thing the Dark Lord does not. Never.  
  
Voldemort looked around him, his dark eyes glinting. It was a narrow alley and quite a dirty one. The buildings around it were black from soot and dust that collected over the years. The residents in here must be muggles for there were no owls around. Voldemort scowled. Stupid muggles. When he's in control, there shall be no muggles, nor mudbloods, or any muggle-loving fools, like the old cracked Dumbledore. Only pure bloods shall be there, for only they are worthy of serving the Dark Lord. Only pure bloods. Voldemort smiled to himself. Yes, what a fine day that would be.  
  
And that brought him back to the present. Where was that idiot, thought Voldemort furiously. He should've put someone more reliable to the task. Perhaps Malfoy, if he had not been busy doing other business for him. Voldemort smiled as he thought of Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. First in command after Voldemort- his most trusted and faithful Death Eater. He was the most competent out of them all. Most of the rest were burdening, rather than helpful. Yes, there were a few more that he could trust. There was Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband Rohopholus Lestrange, Antonnin Dolohov, and of course, Severus Snape, being in second-command. The rest were mostly futile. There was Crabbe and Goyle, who really were Malfoy's lapdogs, doing Malfoy's bidding (which were most likely to be his commands), Macnair, Avery, Karkaroff and many others that weren't even worth mentioning. The Dark Lord knew that most of his Death Eaters only joined him out of cowardice, but he accepted them into his ranks anyhow, because he knew that the more followers he had, the better.  
  
Voldemort was not stupid, far from it really. The Dark Lord knew that he needed far more followers before he could challenge the Ministry and ultimately, Hogwarts. Sure, he had his ring of Death Eaters, and quite a large band of dark creatures, like dementors and giants. But though the Ministry seemed weak, there were some strong magic that protected it, or else it would've fallen centuries ago. And as for Hogwarts, Voldemort wouldn't attempt to ambush unless he had a hundred percent certainty of succeeding, and with the muggle-loving fool Dumbledore still there, it seemed rather unlikely.  
  
But sooner or later, Hogwarts would fall under his power. He would turn it into a school for dark arts, and accept only those whose blood was pure. The students there would be trained to be his future followers, and they will prove to be more useful than their previous generation. Soon...  
  
It was only a matter of time.  
  
Crack.  
  
A man with black robes popped out of mid air and into the darkness of the night. The hood over his head completely shielded his face from view- any on looker could only see a dark shadow in the place of his face. The man was of medium height but looked scarily menacing. He bowed to Voldemort. It was lucky for him that it was so dark, for he was shaking all over and the fear in his dark eyes were evident.  
  
Voldemort darted his eyes at the man in front of him, "Why so late, Rosier?" he asked, twirling his wand in his hand. This was his game. His favourite sport. Rosier needed to be punished, or else all the others would follow his example, thinking that their master was forgiving. That he was not.  
  
The man quivered at the sight of the stick. "I was delayed, my Lord," he replied truthfully. He bowed even lower, not daring to meet the eyes of his master. They were so penetrating that they were scary. Worse than scary.  
  
"And is that so?" asked Voldemort mercilessly, still twirling his wand carelessly in his hand, and watched his servant's expression, "How long have you been following me, Rosier?"  
  
Rosier didn't reply. "Answer me!"  
  
"T-three years, my Lord," Rosier answered shakily, straightening but careful to avoid the pair of scarlet eyes.  
  
"And how long does it take you to understand that I do not tolerate lateness?" Voldemort croaked.  
  
"I'm sorry my Lord, I was, they nearly, they had-"  
  
"SILENCE!" Voldemort shouted. Such power erupted from the voice that the ground beneath them shook, caused the birds to scatter away and paralyzed Rosier, who dropped to his knees and begged for mercy. "Please forgive me, my Lord. Please, I'll do better next time. I'm promise," he pleaded, desperation in his voice. He should've known better- Voldemort never forgives- he punishes.  
  
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to teach you a little lesson about punctuality, Rosier. Crucio."  
  
Rosier screamed in pain as the curse hit him. His body contorted as he endured the pain of a thousand nails hitting him. He fell back on the ground, his limbs tangled and he screamed in agony. Finally, after what seemed to him years, but was perhaps only a few seconds, Voldemort lifted the curse. Rosier drew in quick sharp breaths noisily as he composed himself in front of his master. His legs felt numb, and he almost fell over with exhaustion. He had been expecting this but he had hoped that his master was lenient tonight.  
  
"Now Rosier, tell me what I have come to hear," said Voldemort in his cold and calm voice, as if nothing had just happened.  
  
"My... my Lord. I was at Hog's Head, a-as you sta-stationed me. And then I saw the muggle-loving f-fool enter. I th-thought it might've been of importance, so followed him. He was interviewing a-a lady for the p- position of the divination teacher. H-he was about to leave when s-she made a prophecy, a real prophecy."  
  
"What is it?" demanded Voldemort, his voice tight. He gripped his wand tightly, ready to aim another Cruciatus curse at Rosier if necessary. This was not good news. He had learnt as a young boy that prophecies had a funny way of coming true, even if you tried to avoid it.  
  
"Something like... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born as the seventh month dies... born to those who have thrice defied them... and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal... but he will have power that the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... " recited a shivering Rosier to the best of his abilities.  
  
Voldemort gripped his wand harder, "And to whom does this prophecy refer to?" he asked, his scarlet eyes penetrating Rosier once again.  
  
"The strange thing, my Lord, is that the prophecy refers to two boys... the Potters and the Longbottoms," said Rosier, now more relaxed. The aftermath of the Cruciatus curse was leaving.  
  
"Potter and Longbottom..." murmured Voldemort to himself.  
  
"But what shall we do, my Lord? Surely, we can not allow these pathetic fools to live!" cried Rosier in outrage, looking up at his master expectantly.  
  
"Be quiet Rosier. These two do not threaten my reign. They are not even born yet! And when the time comes, I will kill them both," said Voldemort, curling his wandless hand into a fist. "This is my chance to prove to that muggle-loving fool of a man, Dumbledore-" Voldemort spat the name out with disgust, "that nothing can defeat me. And once I kill these boys, they will have no chance against me."  
  
"Yes, of course, my Lord. No one can defeat you. It is only a matter of time before the whole world is under your rule," cried Rosier in admiration. When in doubt, always go with flattery. You could never go wrong, everyone likes to be flattered.  
  
Voldemort smiled. He knew it was true. It's only a matter of time now, he told himself. But- "Keep an eye out for these two boys anyway. I am extremely curious about them. Any abnormal or interesting behavior is to be immediately reported to me."  
  
And without another word, Voldemort was gone in a swish of a cloak and a loud popping noise. Rosier pondered for a moment or two and then followed his master's example.  
  
The night was still as dark before. No evidence in the dark alley showed that two men, who were wanted by the whole of the wizarding world, were here a moment ago. It was the same as it always had been. The rats were still down scattering in the gutters, the birds still rested peacefully in their nests, the bats still soared high in the sky and the foxes still hunted for their prey. There was nothing in the night to suggest that something abnormal had just happened. Something that will change the wizarding world unimaginably much. Something that if had turned out slightly differently, would've changed the fate of millions. But what was done had been done. And the wizarding world silently prepared itself for what was the darkest era since history- the reign of Lord Voldemort.  
  
----  
  
Dumbledore paced around the room. Snape grimaced. He had thought the headmaster was incapable of panicking, until now that was. It was now a couple of hours past midnight and Snape was getting more and more tired. It had been a long night for him, but luckily not painful. Voldemort had called an emergency meeting very late. And meetings with the Dark Lord himself were far from pleasant. Aside from the stinging pain that he always got as a signal for the meeting, Snape also had to endure the fear of being found out every meeting for however long it goes for. And now he was here, for Snape wasn't just any Death Eater, he was a spy for the Order of Phoenix; the organization against Voldemort that Dumbledore was head of.  
  
Dumbledore looked up for the first time in quite a while. "Are you sure about this Severus? Does Voldemort- (Snape winced) - know about the whole of the prophecy?" Dumbledore had an odd expression on his face that Snape couldn't quite understand. It was the second time that the headmaster had asked him that tonight. What was the old man up to?  
  
"I haven't been surer in my whole entire life," was the reply from the potion's master. "Though I wish I wasn't," he added as an afterthought. Sure, he wasn't particularly fond of the Potters, far from it actually. But that didn't mean that he wanted them to die, and from the looks of things, that was what was going to happen to them. Well, considering James Potter, it was quite astonishing that he had lived this long, since he had an unusual trait of seeking trouble, thought Snape with a wry smile. But the Longbottoms were nice enough, and they certainly didn't deserve this.  
  
Snape guessed that the only good thing that had come out of this entire stupid prophecy was that it gave them new hope, however slim it might be. For starters, Snape just could not bring himself to understand who a yet unborn boy could be the saviour of the entire wizarding world, when thousands of trained Aurors couldn't. And then there was the fact that 'he' would be killed by Voldemort before he even had the chance to defy him.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I knew that there was a spy, but I only hoped that he had not heard the entire prophecy. But unfortunately for us, this isn't the case. What exactly did he say, Severus?"  
  
Snape pointed his hand towards Dumbledore's desk. The headmaster nodded in approval and swiftly went over to his desk, picked up a flat dish and handed it to his colleague, who accepted it with a grimace.  
  
Snape took out his wand, pointed to his temples and then slowly pointed it down into the bowl. A silvery misty substance flowed out from his head and sank gracefully into the bowl, swirling and twirling, like a liquid, yet not quite. Light from Dumbledore's fireplace reflected off its glossy clear surface, making it sparkle. Dumbledore lent forward and saw into Snape's memory.

_It was dark, very dark. And oddly cold. Dumbledore drew out his wand from his robes and muttered, "Lumos." A small sphere of light erupted at the end of his wand, illuminating the room, but even so, most of the space around him was still covered in darkness. Dumbledore looked around and examined his surroundings.  
  
Small dark rectangular shaped objects stood around him, silent yet watchful, examining his every move. Dumbledore knew that of course, this was not true, as he was in Snape's memory and thus no human could see him, much less objects. Dumbledore took a large stride forward and bent down next to the block closest to him. He gently placed his hand on the block. It was cold to his touch. Icy. He lent closer and in the darkness, he could just make out some letters and numbers.  
  
It was a cemetery.  
  
Typical, thought Dumbledore with a wry smile. He stood up and dusted himself with his hands and sat on a stone plate, waiting. It wasn't long before he heard several loud cracking noises, all one after another. Five dark shapes emerged out of the shadow and came into view. Their black robes that covered their faces made it impossible to tell who it was. But not that Dumbledore needed to know. It was obvious. The tall one was Lucius Malfoy, the slightly shorter one next to him was his colleague Snape. The two on the opposite side were the Lestranges, Bellatrix and her husband, Rohopholus. And the last one was Dolohov.  
  
Antonin Dolohov.  
  
Dumbledore remembered all the Order members he had killed.  
  
Dolohov.  
  
Just that name made thousands of people quaver in fear. He was the most wanted Death Eater, after the Lestrange couple. He had been almost caught several times, but every time he managed to somehow escape by himself at the last moment, causing the short-lived victories to end in disaster. Except for once. That was the time Moody had caught him. For the light side, it seemed to be the end of one of Voldemort's most faithful Death Eaters. There was much rejoicing from people who had lost family or friends to him, thinking that the murderer would finally be sentenced.  
  
But of course Voldemort had to intervene. And Dolohov escaped once again.  
  
Typical.  
  
Dumbledore shook his memories away and concentrated on the scene in front of him. By now all the Death Eaters, though only dark shapes in the night, had appeared and had formed a circle, leaving only one space open.  
  
A dark tall shape loomed out of the darkness, as if materializing from thin air. The Death Eaters bowed low and the only sounds that could be heard were that of the swishing of cloaks. Voldemort signaled for them to rise, which they did simultaneously, as if they were one. Dumbledore seated himself on a stone and waited for Voldemort to speak.  
  
"My Death Eaters," said Voldemort, turning his head in several directions and addressing his followers, "I have called for an emergency meeting. And there is a reason for that. Do any of you know? Or any care to guess?"  
  
A quick murmur ran through the circle as the Death Eaters wondered what their Lord was talking about. All of them except for, of course, Rosier, had no idea what this was all about. Finally the noise quieted down, and a shape took a step away from its position in the circle.  
  
The shape bowed low. "My Lord," came Bellatrix Lestrange's young high voice from under the black hood, "Have you caught that dratted cousin of mine or any other of his pathetic little friends?" Her tone was fairly excited, as if this was a very thrilling thought.  
  
Voldemort laughed. "Not today, Bellatrix. But I assure you, when I, and believe me I shall, capture them, I will make sure you are the first to know, and I will personally give you the job of 'interrogating' them. It is something I'm sure you have been looking forwards to all your life."  
  
"Thank you, my Lord," said Bellatrix. She bowed low again and returned to her position in the circle, leaving the purpose of the meeting still unknown.  
  
"Any other guesses?"  
  
Another shape broke away from the circle and bowed. This time, however, the voice belonged to a man. It was deep and icy, with an arrogant hint in it. One could guess now whom the voice belonged to.  
  
Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Have the trolls agreed to aid us?"  
  
Voldemort shook his head disappointingly. "I expected better from you, Lucius. You of all people should know that I care too less about trolls to even know about them, much less hold a meeting specifically to discuss them. No, it is not that."  
  
Finally a third figure stepped forward. "Has something unusual happened that will influence our chances of winning the war?" asked the third voice, sounding very different to the first two.  
  
It was Snape.  
  
Voldemort laughed again. "Of all people, Severus, you are the one who is the closest. Yes, something happened tonight. Something very important, just like you said. And it certainly does influence our chances of winning the war, Severus, it does..."  
  
"Rosier," commanded Voldemort, turning to the Death Eater, "Inform them on what has happened."  
  
"Yes, my Lord," replied Rosier eagerly. He stepped forward with an odd sort of glow about him and explained the prophecy. As he spoke, no one uttered a single word. At one stage, Bellatrix gave out a shriek, but was silenced by her husband. So for a good twenty minutes, Rosier spoke, and he added in quite a few fictional sections about his bravery in spying and how if it was anyone else, they would have failed (this earned him quite a few glares from around the circle).  
  
When he finished his tale, the Death Eaters fell silent, each in his or her own world. For Snape, he was in turmoil. On one hand, this was a chance for the light side to finally win the war; on the other hand however, it seemed quite ludicrous to think that an unborn baby could possibly defeat the Dark Lord. It was like comparing a werewolf with an ant. What are the chances of success?  
  
None whatsoever, said a little voice nastily in his head.  
  
"What do you think?" asked Lord Voldemort, looking expectantly at the group. "What are your opinions? Speak. I want to hear all of you today. No one shall leave until they have spoken their mind. Who shall go first? What about you, Rohopholus, you have not spoken today."  
  
Rohopholus Lestrange stepped forward from his position next to his wife and bowed. "I am wondering if this prophecy is reliable. Could it be fake? Perhaps it is a trap our enemies have set. I think we should find out more about this Sybil Trelawney before we act. Is she really a true Seer?"  
  
Voldemort cackled. "That was no more than I expected from you, Rohopholus. Ever the careful one. Never acted on impulse. No, I assure you of the reliability of the prophecy."  
  
A strong gale blew past and as the night temperature dropped considerably, several Death Eaters shivered. In the distant, a few flapping sounds could be heard, indicating that several birds flew out of trees around them. Dumbledore found himself speculating at Snape's remarkable attention to little details.  
  
Dumbledore stood up as Voldemort went onto the next Death Eater in line. He had heard enough to guess quite accurately what Voldemort's action plan will be. He felt a familiar tug and allowed himself to be pulled out of Snape's memory.  
_After a whirlpool of silvery liquid, Dumbledore was back in his brightly lit office again, with Snape opposite him with the same grimace he had worn since the beginning of the night. Snape looked at him expectantly. Dumbledore sighed heavily and sat behind his desk. The Potion's Master noted that the old man seemed to have another twenty years in the past hour or so.  
  
"From my knowledge and understanding of Voldemort," said Dumbledore finally, "I am fairly sure o what he will do."  
  
"And?" asked Snape, dreading the answer.  
  
"There is good and bad news," replied the Headmaster regretfully. He picked up his wand and waved gently towards the direction of the fire place. In an instant, red hot flames appeared and warmed up the room.  
  
Snape rubbed his left forearm gingerly, and then said, "I've had enough of bad news today. Tell me the good first."  
  
"The good news," said Dumbledore slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "is that neither of the boys is in immediate danger. Voldemort wants the boys to live, so both the Potter and Longbottom families are safe, at least, for the moment. The bad news... is the reason why Voldemort wants the boys to live."  
  
"You do know that that makes no sense whatsoever," replied Snape half- jokingly, although knowing perfectly well that there was logic behind Dumbledore's words. If there was anyone in the world who knew the Dark Lord, then it was Dumbledore. But counteracting this advantage was Voldemort's ability to predict Dumbledore's actions and his way of manipulating Dumbledore's kindness and trust against him. Both men knew each other as well as they knew themselves.  
  
"You see," explained Dumbledore as he got up and walked around the room, "Voldemort has become over-confident, arrogant even. He has come to think that nothing in the world, not me, not anyone, can possible defeat him. To him, it's only a matter of time before Britain, and then the whole world, comes under his rule. And this is his possible undoing."  
  
"Are you implying that Voldemort doesn't think that either boy will have any chance against him? Is that why he is going to let them live? Because he doesn't believe the prophecy?"  
  
"Not so much in the sense that the prophecy is untrue. He knows better than that. But he is too self-believing to think for one moment that an unborn child could be his downfall."  
  
"To be honest," Snape said icily, "I don't blame him. I can't believe that the fate of the war depends on... a stupid prophecy. I mean, is all that we have done for nothing? If everything is fate and destiny, then why do we even bother?"  
  
"No, Severus. You know that is not true. Destiny may tangle with lives, yet in the end, it is the choices we make that matters. Fate is not like a manuscript, carved into stone and unable to be altered. It is more like a river, flowing in its own course. Yet if we dig a trench, it will flow through the way we want it to. Fate is there, but we can shape it, bend it, change it, and divert it, through our choices in life. Possibly everything that we have done is the key to defeating Voldemort, but how can one be sure of such a thing? The answer is that you can't, and therefore, you have to try it to see."  
  
Dumbledore stopped at his desk and spun one of the gadgets lying there. He continued, "Getting back to the situation at hand. Voldemort is going to wait until the boys grow up. He knows the prophecy; he is going to watch them. And he will wait for a sign. A sign which will indicate to him which boy is a stronger opponent. Then he will strike. But when he strikes he shall not only kill the one he chose, but also the other, just to be on the safe side."  
  
"Why wait until then?" asked Snape somewhat curiously, "Why not kill the boys' parents? Why not make sure they are not born in the first place? Why not just eliminate the opposition before they have a chance to defend themselves? I have not heard the Dark Lord was famous for his mercy or fairness in war."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Once again we come back to his arrogance. He wants to prove to me. Prove to the world. That is why. He wants to show me that no one can stop him, not even someone whom a prophecy states is his equal. And when that equal is dead, the world will lose its chance. For if even his equal can not kill him, then who can? That is why. He wants to world to lose hope. "  
  
"But how can two boys be the end of him?" muttered Snape.  
  
"That is a question," said Dumbledore, "that we would all like to know the answer to. But fate and destiny work in mysterious and wondrous ways. And the pure irony of it all would be quite funny if the wizarding world wasn't at stake."  
  
"Only you can appreciate such irony," murmured Snape accusingly.  
  
Dumbledore laughed for the first time that evening. "Quite true Severus, quite true." Dumbledore walked over to the fireplace, picked up a grey pot filled with dust and grabbed a handful. Then he handed the pot over to Snape.  
  
Snape scowled. "You know how much I hate floopowder," said the disgusted Potion's Master as he too took a handful of the powder, though much more unwillingly. "And where are we going?"  
  
"I think," said Dumbledore soberly, "that it is time we tell the Potters and Longbottoms about the prophecy. They deserve to know, after all, it is their sons who are involved."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes and said, "I honestly would not like to see the way Potter reacts."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "I really believe that the two, or rather three, including Sirius, of you should put what was past behind you. This is no time to hold school boy grudges. In the face of a common enemy, Severus, we are all allies."  
  
"Tell that to Potter and Black."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "It is such a pity. I rather think that if you gave each other a chance you would find you will become quite good friends."  
  
"I won't live to see that day," said Snape wryly.  
  
"We'd best be off then," said Dumbledore sadly. He walked over to his desk and hurriedly wrote a note. Then he walked over to Fawkes and handed it to him. "Give this to Frank Longbottom. Go now." And in a flash, the golden phoenix disappeared. "Come now Severus," said Dumbledore as he walked into the fireplace and said clearly, "Godric's Hollow."  
  
Snape grimaced and after Dumbledore disappeared, followed and did the same. 


	2. Chapter 1 September the First

**Dedication- I dedicate this story to my friend Emma: May our friendship last across space and time.**

Chapter 1- September the First  
  
The first of September was always a hectic time for parents in the wizarding world. Their children would scurry off to magic schools, leaving the house empty and dull. But the mornings were always a complete chaos. It seemed that on these days, everything that could go wrong would go wrong. Either Jennifer forgot her Potions book or William didn't have his dress robes. Whatever the reason, time seemed to fly faster than the latest broomstick.  
  
This first of September was no different.  
  
Crowds of people dressed in funny robes and tall pointy hats gathered around at platform 9 ¾. 9 ¾, you would ask? There is certainly no such thing. Of course there was Platform 9 and Platform 10. But undoubtedly 9 ¾ would not exist? But it surely must, for printed boldly and clearly on the wrought iron archway were the words _Platform Nine and Three Quarters_.  
  
For the men, women and children gathered, this was no phenomenon. A few might throw a bored glance towards curious sign, but most simply were concentrated on what they were doing. Mothers were hugging their children desperately, as if they would never see them again, older teens would stamp impatiently and strain their necks to find their friends, younger underage children would nag their parents, asking if they can go as well and husbands would look awkwardly around them, obviously uncomfortable by their wives' public displays of affection.  
  
Three people stood amongst the crowd in the middle of the platform; a young couple with a boy no older than eleven. There was nothing in particular that was special about them, though the middle-aged woman's flame red hair was rather attention grabbing. They were obviously a family. The boy that stood in front of the young couple was uncannily identical to his father, right down to the messy way his jet black hair stands. But his startlingly green eyes that danced with life were his mother's trait.  
  
The young boy looked eagerly about him, absorbing his surrounding like a sponge in water. To his left side, a heavy looking trunk labeled H. Potter sat with a cage occupied by a snowy jeweled-eyes owl.  
  
The mother bent down and hugged her son tightly, like so many other mothers around her did. "Oh Harry..." she murmured. "I can't believe that you're off to Hogwarts already. My little boy... all grown up. Doesn't time just fly? All of the sudden I'm old with wrinkles and my son is going to school."  
  
Harry blushed and pushed his mother off. "Mum," he complained. "I'm fine. Stop fretting. You're embarrassing me."  
  
His mum smiled at her son's uncomfortable look. "I'm a mother. Fretting is my job."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
The father chuckled. "Lily," he teased, "You're not old, and you're certainly not wrinkled. You're as beautiful and youthful as the day I met you."  
  
Lily threw her husband a sneer. "I really don't want to remember the day I met you, James Potter."  
  
"What?" cried out her husband in mock curiosity, flinging his arms out. "Am I too much of a heart throb?"  
  
Lily slapped James on the head playfully. "More like an arrogant idiot," she replied.  
  
"Mum? Dad?" asked an embarrassed Harry, his gaze shifting between his parents. "Can you please quit it? I'm going to miss my train."  
  
Lily turned her attention back to her son. She kneeled down and looked into his eyes that were identical to her own. "Now Harry," she started seriously, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I want you to promise me to be safe. God knows what can happen...with the war going on." She stopped and tears rolled down her young face.  
  
Her husband shook his head sympathetically. "Lily, Harry is old enough to take care of himself. Besides, it's school he's going to, not some battleground. He'll be fine."  
  
"Of course," she said, wiping her tears quickly. "Just being stupid." She stood up and sniffed. Then seeing her son's worried look, she promptly changed the subject. "Have you seen Ron yet?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Nah... I can't see him. He is coming, isn't he?" he asked half-fearfully. There were too many wizarding children that stopped coming to school in fear of the on-going war. It was too horrifying to think about, young children threatened in this world of chaos.  
  
"Of course he is," replied Lily sympathetically. "They're probably just taking time getting ready. After all, the Weasleys do have so many people in their family. Honestly, I don't know how Molly manages them all, she's a miracle worker."  
  
Harry nodded, knowing that his mother's words were correct.  
  
"Have you got all of your stuff?" asked Lily. "If you need anything... if you've forgotten anything, just owl us and we'll send it straight there, okay?"  
  
"Lily, stop panicking. We did this as well at Harry's age. We were fine, as Harry will be as well."  
  
Lily didn't get the chance to retort, for an excited voice rang through the crowd. "Harry!" She turned and saw a red-head bob around the crowd, trying to make its way over. It pushed through masses of people, dodging and creeping past completely unnoticed. Soon, a flushed and excited Ronald Weasley came face to face with the Potters.  
  
"Ron!" cried Harry, giving his best friend for years a hug. "Why are you so late?"  
  
The red-head grinned sheepishly. "Ginny needed a bit of waking this morning, Percy took ages in the bathroom, and Fred and George decided to help matters by stealing and hiding my school books. It wasn't until Mum used a Summoning Spell did she get all of them. Then she got all steamy and yelled at them for being purposely troublesome. Complete chaos this morning, and by the end of it, we were running really late."  
  
James grinned. He personally loved the Weasley twins, and often gave them tips on what pranks to do when they were out of ideas. It almost seemed that Fred and George were younger versions of the Marauders.  
  
"James! Lily!" Molly Weasley had spotted them from afar. Pushing a trolley filled with trunks, she made her way over slowly, bumping accidentally into several people along the way. She was followed by a line of red-heads. The children moved to where Harry and Ron were standing, leaving the adults free to talk between themselves.  
  
"Molly," greeted Lily, and then, noticing the absence of another red-head, asked, "Where's Arthur?"  
  
Molly's face dropped slightly. "He has extra work at the Ministry."  
  
Lily frowned at this remark but didn't pursue the topic any further, having sensed Molly's unhappiness. "Are you excited?" she asked, giving a nod in Ron's general direction.  
  
Molly smiled at Lily's nervous yet excited expression. "Not really," she replied truthfully. "I've done this before, four times, to be precise. But you must be thrilled; I remember that I certainly was when Bill first went to Hogwarts. It's the first indication that our children are growing up, going to school."  
  
James grinned and replied, "She's been crazy. For the whole summer holiday she's been jumping up and down, whether out of anxiety or fear I don't know. Sometimes I wonder who's more excited about going to Hogwarts, Harry or her."  
  
Molly patted Lily on the shoulder, smiling knowingly. "Don't mind James, dear, men are always like that, so insensitive. I know exactly how you feel, I felt like that with Bill as well. It suddenly makes you feel very old, doesn't it?"  
  
Lily nodded eagerly; glad that someone at least understood how she was feeling.  
  
"Where are Sirius and Remus?" asked Molly, looking around. "Surely they all wanted to see Harry off?"  
  
"Oh, they guys just wanted to give me and Lily some privacy," explained James. "They respect that it's a family thing, or at least, that's what Remus told me; and Remus has this odd talent of making the worst things sound fantastic. I reckon they just didn't want to be around a hysterical Lily."  
  
Molly smiled.  
  
The scarlet train that was labeled Hogwarts Express hooted loudly, and sent puffs of foggy grey smoke into the air. Molly spun around and cried out, "Dear Lord! We've just been standing here and yapping. The train is about to leave! Hurry, get the children on board!"  
  
All the Weasleys (except for Ginny and Percy. who had disappeared long ago to find his prefect compartment) gave their mother a final round of quick goodbyes. Lily hugged Harry again, and after releasing him, bid him some more advice.  
  
"Try not to get into too much trouble," she pleaded.  
  
Harry grinned and his green eyes danced with mischievousness as he picked up the cage containing the snowy owl. "Of course not Mum, what makes you think that I will?"  
  
Lily sneered. "What makes me think that? Hm... let's see. How about, you almost set the kitchen on fire last week just because you thought that the oven was a good place to store your Dr Filibuster's fireworks? Or remember that time when you nearly flooded the house by purposely leaving the shower on? Or what about when you switched the crushed Doxy droppings with pepper, and then sprinkled it onto your father's dinner plate?"  
  
"But Mum," complained Harry. "Those weren't my fault. How was I to know that you were-"  
  
Lily looked ready to explode.  
  
James decided that it was time to intervene before his wife got too heated up. Personally, he was extremely proud of his son, but of course he couldn't voice out those opinions in front of Lily, unless he wanted to starve for the next few weeks.  
  
"Lily," he said, "I think Harry had better go, else he'd miss the train."  
  
"Right," said Lily, nodding. "Take care Harry and _stay out of trouble_!"  
  
"Promise Mum," said Harry, grinning. He took out his wand from his jeans pocket and muttered, "Locomotor trunk!" The chest magically rose into the air, and levitated a few inches above the ground.  
  
Lily frowned. "You know you shouldn't be doing magic yet."  
  
Harry pretended not to hear her. "Bye Mum! Bye Dad! Don't forget to write" he yelled and turned to board the train, with his right hand gripping his wand tightly and maneuvering his trunk.  
  
James couldn't resist. Over the roars of the train and shouts of goodbyes from parents, he shouted to Harry, "Give Snivellus my best wishes!"  
  
Harry turned around and winked at his dad, then stepped into the train.  
  
Lily whacked James on the arm. Quietly, she whispered, "I wish you would get over that little grudge against Severus. You know just as well as I that he is on our side of the war."  
  
James shrugged carelessly. "Doesn't stop him from being an oily slimy git."  
  
A whistle blew and the train hooted again. But this time, the wheels started to roll forward on the ready-set tracks. It started slowly but steadily gained speed. From one of the windows, Harry's head popped out and yelled, "Bye Mum, bye Dad!"  
  
Lily chased the train, running and waving and crying at the same time. But the train soon was too quick, and she watched helplessly as it raced ahead of her and disappeared into a tiny speck of red amongst the dark green of the mountains.  
  
She sobbed, and James held her securely in his arms.  
  
"He'll be safe, wont he?" asked Lily like a little child seeking reassurance. "He won't get Harry, will he?"  
  
James shook his head firmly. "Of course not. You're not thinking clearly, Lily. Its Hogwarts Harry is going to...Hogwarts, the safest place on earth. Dumbledore is there, and you know just as well as I do that Voldemort dare not attack where Dumbledore resides. He'll be safer at Hogwarts then he was at home, than anywhere. It's the best place he can be right now. And he'll make friends, he'll learn magic, get detentions, have fun."  
  
"But... wouldn't that make Hogwarts more of a target? And Harry is already a target. A target on a target. I can't help but worry James. The prophecy..."  
  
"...doesn't say who it is. It could be Neville for all we know. Stop worrying."  
  
Lily stopped. "Neville is going to Hogwarts too this year, isn't he? I totally forgot. How come we didn't see Frank and Alice? They must've been here." She looked around, trying to find them.  
  
"There are too many people here, Lily. You'll never find them."  
  
Lily turned back to the direction the train had disappeared, feeling that her heart had disappeared with it. Be safe Harry, she thought silently, be safe.  
  
----  
  
Harry turned as the compartment door slid open. An old battered witch pushing a trolley of goodies came in, asking them if they wanted anything.  
  
Ron looked at Harry hopefully.  
  
Harry grinned and replied to the witch, "Yeah. I'll take ten chocolate frogs, a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and two Cauldron Cakes." Then he took out a few silver coins from his pocket and gave it to the witch, who in turn placed it inside a leather pouch hanging from the trolley. She handed the purchases to Harry and moved on to the next compartment dully.  
  
"Thanks Harry," said Ron appreciatively, as he took a handful of chocolate frogs. "You're the best."  
  
Harry munched on his cake and didn't reply.  
  
Next to him, Ron groaned as he saw the picture on the chocolate frog card. "Morgana again!" he said. "This is like my seventh one!"  
  
This reminded Harry of something. Swallowing his mouthful of cake, he said, "I got an Agrippa in the holidays."  
  
Ron sighed. "Want to swap?" he asked hopefully, throwing aside the unwanted Morgana card. He grabbed a Cauldron Cake and took a large bite.  
  
Before Harry could reply, the compartment door slid open again and a young girl wearing school robes stood in the doorway. She had long busy brown hair neatly tied back in a pony tail and large front teeth. An air of authority surrounded her as she stepped forward and introduced herself.  
  
"Hi," she said, outstretching her hand, "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm a first- year."  
  
Harry chook her hand and replied, "Me too. I'm Harry Potter and this is Ron Weasley."  
  
She nodded lightly in Ron's direction to acknowledge him. She turned back to Harry and said, "There is a boy up the front who has lost his toad. I was wondering if you saw it."  
  
Harry met Ron's amused gaze and grinned. "Neville, right?" he asked Hermione.  
  
The young girl looked a bit shocked. "You know each other?"  
  
Ron grinned and responded, "Of course. All our parents work in the-"  
  
Ron stopped abruptly.  
  
"Ministry," finished Harry for him. "Our parents all work in the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Ron nodded continuously. "The Ministry, yeah."  
  
Hermione had the feint impression that that wasn't what Ron was originally going to say, but she didn't question further. She had read enough of wizarding books to know that there was a war going on. She guessed correctly that Ron, Harry and Neville's parents probably all worked in some secret organization.  
  
She pretended not to notice. "Well, if you see anything, make sure you tell me," she said and turned to go. "See you at school."  
  
As soon as the door clicked shut Ron said grumpily, "I don't like her. She's one of those bossy goody-goody-two-shoes."  
  
"I don't' like her either," agreed Harry. "And neither would Dad or Sirius for that matter."  
  
Sirius Black was Harry's Godfather. He was James Potter's best friend, along with Remus Lupin. Both men were an important part of Harry's life so far. They were so much like family that Harry even called them 'Uncle Sirius' and 'Uncle Remus', until Sirius told him to stop, that is. It makes me feel old, the man had said haughtily. That was Sirius, never serious. Harry's mother claimed that he had not grown up a bit since their teen years. James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had been inseparable during school, Lily had told Harry.  
  
There was another, which Harry only knew as a round eager face with beady eyes. His name was Peter Pettigrew. Harry never met him, but knew that he was the fourth and last member of his father's little gang. Lily had told Harry that he was a small shy boy, nether the less very kind. From the bits and pieces Harry had gathered through eavesdropping, Pettigrew disappeared a few months after he was born. Although no one could prove it, it was rather obvious that Pettigrew was taken by Voldemort, or at least his supporters.  
  
They never found him, not even a dead body. It seemed that this affected James a lot. Harry's father would always turn eerily serious and sober whenever the name 'Peter' or 'Pettigrew' was mentioned. At first Harry would ask questions, but quickly he learnt that his father was less than willing to share information. He would go uncharacteristically quiet whenever Harry inquired about Pettigrew.  
  
Harry asked his mother why dad reacted like that. Lily had explained that the four of them had been very close in school. James was blaming himself for what happened to Pettigrew, even though what had happened was not his fault. Pettigrew had disappeared on a secret mission for the Order.  
  
The Order. Harry knew about the Order, even though he wasn't supposed to. But that was just more reason to find out more. It wasn't all that hard. Adults have this funny way of letting things slip, and thus Harry knew much about this supposed secret organization. Its full name was the Order of the Phoenix. Why, Harry never managed to find out. He supposed that it was just a fancy name so that it wouldn't sound too suspicious.  
  
What he did know was that there were many, hundreds, of witches and wizards involved, throughout England. They held meetings every week, and sometimes more. Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and arguably the greatest wizard ever, was the head of it. Harry knew quite a bit about Dumbledore as his parents were always talking about him. But Harry had only seen Dumbledore a few times. He was a peculiar man, with a long flowing beard that was snow white, an incomprehensible sense of humour and a kind twinkle in his eyes. It was hard to believe that this aged old wizard was Voldemort's archenemy, and the only man he fears.  
  
Harry was snapped back into reality as the compartment door opened for the third time since their journey. Three boys entered. The first one, obviously the leader, had white-blond hair that was brushed to perfection, pale skin and a pointed face. The two behind him were rather large and looked somewhat unintelligent. A smug smile played on the blonde boy's face as he saw Harry and Ron.  
  
"Why, isn't it Potty and Weasel?" he sneered tauntingly. "Weasel, I have to say that I'm rather surprised to see you here. I hope that your parents did not have to steal to pay for your school fees."  
  
Ron blushed and his ears turned red. "Get lost Malfoy," he said.  
  
"Ooooh," screeched Malfoy, "Little freckle-face is scared of admitting that his family is poor. Ashamed aren't you? Well you should be more ashamed of associating with lesser people of the society- filthy mudbloods."  
  
Ron's hands curled into a fist by his sides. "Eat dung Malfoy," he whispered fiercely.  
  
Malfoy scorned. "If there was one family that would eat dung, Weasel, it would be yours because you can't afford anything else. I suppose that you parents had to sell that rotten little place you call home just to get you here, hey?"  
  
Ron looked ready to punch him.  
  
Harry pushed Ron back and glared him warningly. Then he turned back to Malfoy. "I'd be careful of what you say, Malfoy. This isn't your home anymore. You can't just prance around and act like you own everything." Harry grinned suddenly. "I'm surprised that you are coming to Hogwarts. Durmstrang not close enough to your dear mummy for you?"  
  
Malfoy took a step forward into the compartment and swung his wand from his pocket, pointing it to Harry's face. "Are you asking for trouble, Potter?" he whispered.  
  
"I hope we're not fighting here, boys," came a soft voice with authority. "You wouldn't want to get into trouble already; school has not even officially begun yet." A middle-aged man with light brown hair walked in, looking at the boys inquiringly.  
  
Malfoy froze but quickly swung his wand down and placed it into one of his robe pockets in what he thought was a very careless manner. "Off course not Professor. Now why would you think that?" He turned back to Harry and Ron and gave them meaningful look, "I'll see you two at school."  
  
Translation, thought Ron to himself, we'll finish this later.  
  
Malfoy threw the sandy-haired man an innocent smile and left the compartment briskly, followed closely by his comrades. Only when the compartment door slid shut did Harry get a good view of the intruder.  
  
"Remus!" cried Harry, running up to the man that seemed like an uncle. "What are you doing here?'  
  
Remus Lupin grinned, "Patrolling."  
  
What from, Harry and Ron did not need to ask. It was obvious. It seemed that no matter where one went, one could not outrun the fear of being attacked by Voldemort. There always seemed to armed Aurors around wherever you went, whenever you went. Even Diagon Alley wasn't deemed to be safe. Aurors patrolled the area day and night, in fear of a surprise attack.  
  
Moving on, Harry asked, "But why you?" It made more sense that an Auror would be doing this job... unless... Harry nearly jumped with delight. "You're coming to Hogwarts, aren't you? You're going to teach there!"  
  
Lupin smiled. "About time you figured it out."  
  
"Why didn't you tell us Remus?" asked Ron. Because Ron has been Harry's best friend since they were five, he knew Remus extremely well. The fact that he was going to become a professor was as much of a surprise to Ron as it was to Harry.  
  
"Thought you might've liked that little surprise," replied Remus humorously.  
  
"This is fantastic!" shouted Harry. Then he stopped. "But what about..."  
  
Harry had known Remus' secret since he was a little boy. He couldn't even remember how he found out. He had just grown up knowing that Remus was a werewolf and he accepted the man was he was. To Harry, Remus was a sweet and gentle man, who rarely spoke, but always have a knack of speaking precisely to the point.  
  
Remus lost the playful expression. "Dumbledore and I have come up with certain precautions. Everything should be fine. And then there's the potion."  
  
Harry nodded, knowing that Remus was talking about the newly discovered Wolfsbane Potion, which helped a transformed werewolf keep its human mind.  
  
"What subject are you teaching?" asked Ron.  
  
"Defence Against the Dark Arts," replied Lupin brightly. "Have plenty of experience in that area."  
  
Ron shuddered. "Remus, I've heard that that job is haunted. Fred and George told me that not a single teacher who has taught Defence Against the Dark Arts has lasted more than a year."  
  
Lupin shrugged offhandedly. "Maybe I'll be able to break the streak."  
  
"So why did you get the job?" asked Harry. Harry's father and Sirius both were Aurors but Remus always refused. Harry used to be puzzled. He knew that Remus wasn't a lesser fighter than James and Sirius, but why then wasn't he too an Auror? In the end, he finally guessed that it was because of his 'problem'. Remus did the odd job now and then, like getting rid of house pests. He wasn't lavishly rich but always managed to make ends meet.  
  
"Just wanted a change," replied Remus, carelessly shrugging. He lied through his teeth. The real reason he went to Hogwarts, why everyone wanted him was because of the prophecy. Harry and Neville were both starting Hogwarts. They needed extra protection. That was why Dumbledore hired him despite him being a werewolf. But Harry didn't know about the prophecy, and there was no way that Lupin was telling him at such a young age. So he lied.  
  
"Anyway," said Remus, shaking himself away from his thoughts. "I'd better get going. Have a great trip. Don't forget to change into your school robes. And try to stay out of trouble."  
  
Harry grinned. "Those were the precise words Mum said to me this morning."  
  
"Yes," replied Lupin and he stepped out of the door. "I would imagine so."  
  
With a soft 'click', the compartment door shut behind him.  
  
"This is going to be a hell of a year," muttered Harry as he stared out of the window.  
  
He couldn't have been more right.

----

Author's Notes: Sorry about the very late update. Everything's sorted now, finally.

Hope you've all enjoyed this chapter. Took me quite a while to write. I know it was kinda boring, but bear in mind that I'm just introducing my world (this is an AU) and what has happened. I promise it will get more interesting.

Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter. I would be no where without you guys. You're fantastic!!! And if you're a new reader... a big welcome from me!!!

Please leave a review and encourage me. I really want to know what you think, I don't mind if its just criticism.

Thank you all once again for reading my story.

Have a wonderful day.

Amyranth.


	3. Chapter 2 World of Chaos

**Dedication- I dedicate this story to my wonderful friend Emma: May our friendship last across space and time.**

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful J.K.Rowling. Please do not sue me. However, all characters, ideas and basically anything you don't recognise belong to me. Please refrain from copying. Thank you._

**Choices Forseen**

Chapter 2 – World of Chaos

"Firs' years this way!" thundered a booming voice over the roaring of the train.

Harry met Ron's amused glance and grinned with him. The loud voice that they just heard belonged to their large friend, Rubeus Hagrid, or as they called him, simply Hagrid. He was the Gamekeeper of Hogwarts, a dear friend of theirs as well as their parents and also a member of the Order.

Hagrid was an extraordinarily big man, and even Dumbledore (who was remarkably tall) barely reached his shoulders. A bushy beard covered most of his face. His striking appearance made him look rather menacing, but really, as Harry and Ron knew only too well, he was a big softy.

The first years gathered around Hagrid, some looking eagerly about whilst others looking terrified at the monstrous man in front of them.

"Is this everyone?" asked Hagrid.

The first years nodded simultaneously, not that any of them really knew.

Hagrid's face split into a toothy grin. "Follow me."

They walked down a steep narrow path, some stumbling in the darkness. A few were grumbling but stopped abruptly as the trail came to an end at the edge of a large shadowy lake. In front of them stood Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, still as magnificent as it was the day it was build. Positioned at the peak of a mountain behind the backdrop of the dark night sky and shining stars stood the ancient castle, filled with spirals and high towers.

The first years gasped and gaped at the best school in Europe. For some, going to Hogwarts was like a childhood dream come true. Many had to endure long and agonizing waits whilst listening enviously to their parents or older siblings' descriptions of the castle. Now they were finally here, and could see for themselves.

Hagrid grinned at the looks of some of the youngsters. Pointing to a row of little boats lined upon the edge of the great lake, he instructed, "Everyon' get inna boat; maximum of four. No rockin', no splashin' anyone, no purposely diving in the water..."

Hagrid trailed on but no on was listening; as they were all too busy getting themselves sorted into groups of four. Harry and Ron found an empty boat by the edge and hopped in. A small round boy holding a toad followed them.

"Hey Neville," greeted Ron.

"Mind if I join you?" the boy asked politely.

"Sure," replied Harry carelessly and moved over to make room. Neville stepped in and the little boat rocked slightly. He sat down next to Harry and gripped his toad tightly.

"I heard from someone that you lost your toad," said Harry, looking at the little green animal.

"Yeah, luckily I found Trevor before the train stopped," replied Neville, "He was hiding in the Prefects' Compartment. Actually, it was your brother Ron, Percy that found him."

"Why didn't you just use the Summoning Charm?" asked Harry.

Neville frowned. "Mum and Dad said not to use any magic before we got to school. They said that it could go wrong, because we're not prepared enough. Besides, using the Summoning Charm might be a bit dangerous for Trevor, I might hurt him. So I had to look for him the hard way."

Harry was extremely tempted to roll his eyes. Neville was nice enough, but sometimes he could be seriously annoying. Harry, Ron and Neville have known each other pretty much of their life, with their parents being very close friends. But Harry just couldn't understand why Neville was such a goody-goody. He was so obedient, listening to everything his parents said, right down to the very last detail. Harry was completely different, always trying to make things as catastrophic as they could be, always being the troublesome one.

The magic restriction, for instance, was a classic example. Neville was extremely advanced for his age, being able to do many spells and charms that were years above him. He was an eager learner and though he was slow at catching on, his determination made him better than others his age. His parents (who were both aurors) had taught him, but they would never let him perform any magic without the guidance of a trained adult, even when it was perfectly obvious that Neville was more than capable of managing it.

Harry, on the other hand, was less than willing to learn (he would much rather spend his time playing Quidditch or experimenting on gnomes) and thus was far less advanced than Neville. But he had a knack of picking up things fast. Harry agreed with the Weasley twin's motto- that his future lay outside the world of academic achievement.

Harry was interrupted from his thoughts by a high pitched girl's voice. He turned and came face to face with Hermione Granger.

She nodded in reorganization at them. "Could I join you?" she asked. But she might've not bothered because before any of them had replied, she had stepped into the boat. "Everywhere else is full," she added, as if explaining her actions.

Before Harry could say anything, Hagrid shouted forward and the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was eerily silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as the sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles.

The students followed the light of Hagrid's lamp and walked up a flight of stone steps, which finished in front of a huge oak door. Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked.

The massive door swung open and revealed a tall, elderly witch with black hair in emerald-green robes. Harry recognized her as the infamously strict Professor McGonagall. Hagrid and McGonagall exchanged brief words and then Hagrid walked down the steps. As he passed Harry and Ron, he gave them a small wink.

McGonagall led the group of jittery but excited first years through the entrance hall filled with flaming torches, up a flight of marble stairs and into an empty chamber. Then she turned around and gave them a penetrating look.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began in a no-nonsense voice, "I am Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor. The start of term feast is about to begin, before which, you will all be sorted into your houses- namely Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

She continued to talk about the houses and the house point system. Harry found that he quickly lost interest. He glanced around, bored. Next to him, Hermione gave excited gasps, which Harry found extremely annoying. McGonagall finished her speech and left.

"I wonder how we're getting sorted," murmured Hermione next to him.

"Dunno," replied Ron. "My parents and older siblings wouldn't tell me, but my twin brothers told me that it involved pain of some sort."

A girl with brown plats shuddered. "They wouldn't make us fight against some vicious animal, would they? I mean... that sounds kind of dangerous."

Draco Malfoy snorted. "You are all so pathetic," he remarked arrogantly, combing his perfectly brushed hair with his hand. "Of course it wouldn't be something like that. They wouldn't dare. Father would be absolutely furious if anything happened to me, not that anything would," he added sleekly.

Harry desperately refrained himself from snorting. "I suppose, Malfoy, that you know exactly what is going to happen?" he retorted and waited for the blonde's reaction. The group of first years watched the interaction between the two closely.

Malfoy was saved from having to answer as McGonagall re-entered the chamber, and all the crowd's attention was returned to the stern professor.

She gave them a knowing gaze, as if she somehow knew about what had just happened. "Hurry along now," she said, "The Sorting is about to start. Form a line and follow me."

The first years scrambled into a messy line and forwarded after the professor.

They went up another flight of marble stairs, gazing about them. A few ghosts popped up at regular intervals, welcoming the first years and giving them useless words of advice. For those who weren't used to seeing ghosts (Harry assumed that they were muggleborns), the girls squealed in fright whilst the guys yelled in delight. McGonagall turned and gave them a stern look, silencing them.

After walking through a particularly dark chamber, they entered a brilliantly lit spacious room. As Harry's eyes adjusted to the sudden light, he realized that this was the Hogwarts' Great Hall, a site he had seen so many times in his parents' school pictures. But what the photos presented was nothing compared to the real site. The atmosphere of the large crowd of students from the four houses, the ancient beauty of the aged castle, was indescribable.

Harry turned his head up and grinned as Hermione whispered to no one in particular that the ceiling was enchanted to look like the clear night sky of a summer eve. The stars shone so dazzlingly that Harry almost doubted there was a ceiling. But he didn't have any more time to marvel at the phenomenon as the first years in front of him scrambled forwards.

Professor McGonagall placed an old battered hat on a three-footed stool in front of the first years. Harry turned and saw that all the teachers and students were staring at the hat expectantly, so he followed suite, feeling oddly anxious. What did the hat have to do with it all? What looked like a tear to Harry suddenly opened and spoke in a raspy voice that echoed throughout the hall.

_Another year has just flown past,  
__A few more tears on me, a few more cracks.  
__Time these days seems to travel fast;  
__I find myself here sorting again._

_All you youngsters listen to my song,  
__My words in rhyme of place and time.  
__To know which house that you belong,  
__Come over here and try me on._

_Perhaps Gryffindor will suite you best,  
__If courage that is dwells your heart,  
__If you're more daring than the rest,  
__Then join those lions of red and gold. _

_If you're one with a clever mind,  
__Then in Ravenclaw you ought to be,  
__It's the house where you will find,  
__The brightest students of them all. _

_If loyal and patient describe you,  
__Then a humble youngster indeed you are,  
__For people like that there are only a few,  
__And in Hufflepuff they can be found. _

_That's three houses out of the four,  
__Let's not forget old Slytherin,  
__It's the house that strives for more;  
__Filled with determined cunning folk. _

_Before the Sorting Ceremony starts,  
__I want to give you some advice,  
__Listen and take it into your hearts,  
__For though I'm old I still know much._

_There is a war outside these walls  
__Beyond the entrance of Hogwart's doors,  
__When the day comes that destiny calls,  
__Do not falter- take the chance. _

_That is all that I have to say,  
__Each of us has our own purpose,  
__Mine is to sort you all today,  
__So we might as well begin. _

From the round of scattered applause, Harry guessed that the last few verses of the song weren't usually part of it. He swore that when the Hat sang the lines, "_When the day comes that destiny calls, do not falter- take the chance,_" those odd looking eyes lingered on him for a fraction before moving away. What Harry did not know was that Neville was thinking the exact same thing, only it was for himself and not Harry.

Ron's voice awaked Harry from his queries about the hat. "So that's all! We only have to try on a hat! Stupid Fred was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry nodded but didn't reply for McGonagall had already started to read the list and calling forth first years to sit on the stool and be sorted. The first one was a girl with blond pig-tails and after a few seconds, the hat called out "HUFFLEPUFF!"A massive cheer erupted from the second table as the small girl joined them, looking relieves.

After a few more students (Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom was sorted into Gryffindor and Draco Malfoy, not unexpectedly, was sorted into Slytherin), Professor McGonagall finally called out, "Potter, Harry."

Harry walked up to the stool calmly, aware of the thousands of eyes on him. The hat sunk over his eyes and Harry was blinded.

A small voice sounded next to his ear. "Ah! A Potter... the last one I sorted was your father. A Gryffindor, if my memory does not fail me. But you... ah... it is hard to say, Mr Potter."

Harry felt his hands grow cold. His parents, Remus and Sirius were all in Gryffindor. He had always imagined himself as a Gryffindor; it seemed hard to think of him being in any other house, which was what the hat was suggesting.

Gryffindor, please Gryffindor, thought Harry desperately. What would he say to his dad if he was placed in Hufflepuff (James was always making fun of the badgers), or worse, Slytherin?

"Why Gryffindor? You have a clever mind; Ravenclaw would help you develop that a lot further. And you value friendship- Hufflepuff would be fantastic for you. And yes... I see it now, an eager thirst."

Thirst? Thought Harry, what thirst? Just put me in Gryffindor, please.

"Interesting indeed. You yourself do not even know it. I do not know why you want to be in Gryffindor. I do see courage in you, plenty of it, but admittedly, Gryffindor would suite you the least. On the other hand, I would say Slytherin-"

_Please_, thought Harry, put me in Gryffindor.

Harry felt the hat consider something. "Are you sure? Slytherin would honestly be the best house for you. It will help you achieve what you want. You have it in you... we'll expect great things from you, Mister Potter. But if you insist, then you'd better be off in-"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry let out a tremendous sigh of relief as the hat called out its decision and the house of red and gold cheered loudly for their latest member. Running, he joined the Weasley twins who saved a seat for him. Rather unfortunately though, it was right opposite to Hermione Granger.

"Well done Harry," congratulated Fred.

Harry gave him a half-hearted grin, still dampened by what the hat had said, and turned back to watch the rest of his fellow first years be sorted. The hat was on Ron for only a second before he called out "GRYFFINDOR!" And watching his best friend, Harry suddenly felt very unsure of himself- did he make a mistake?

After the last student was sorted, McGonagall snapped her fingers and both the stool and hat disappeared. From the High Table, an elderly wizard with an extremely long flowing beard stood up and the chatter in from the tables below died out almost immediately. It didn't take a genius to know that the man who had just stood up was no other than Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and smiled broadly. "Students, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we start the Start-of-year Feast, there are just a few things I must say. To those new and those who still don't know, the Forbidden Forest, as the name suggests, is forbidden. Also, the caretaker, Argus Filch, would like to remind you that magic is strictly not permitted in corridors, as are numerous other things. If anyone would like anything clarified, please see him. Lastly, would you please welcome Remus Lupin, as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

There was a polite round of applause from the teachers and students as Remus stood up and bowed. Only Harry, Ron and the Weasley twins cheered at the top of their voices, and Harry saw Remus throw him a grin before he sat down in his place next to McGonagall.

The golden plates in front of them suddenly magically filled themselves with a whole variety of food. Harry grinned at Ron and grabbed some roast beef from the plate nearest to him.

Hogwarts was certainly going to be interesting.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he stepped inside his office. The Sorting Hat's lyrics echoed in his head- _another year has just gone past_. Indeed it has, he thought, yet there seems to be no progress in the war whatsoever. Will they ever win? Will they ever be able to defeat Voldemort? Will the wizarding world ever be safe? Will it ever return to normal?

Things have changed since ten years ago. Some worsened, some came off better, yet Voldemort was still here. Nothing in ten years has stopped him. Will this next year prove to be the same as the previous ones? Dumbledore sensed no, because this year is the year that the two entered Hogwarts.

Not many people knew about the prophecy- only a few most trusted members of the Order of the Phoenix. There was himself, Severus Snape, the Potters and Longbottoms, and despite Dumbledore's protests, James had told Sirius and Remus. It wasn't that Dumbledore didn't trust the two other former pupils, it was just that the more people who knew, the more chances of the news escaping. They had been very secretive for the past ten years, never talking about it directly, and they have been lucky. The last thing Dumbledore wanted to happen was for the Ministry to find out about it.

How different the Ministry is now compared to ten years ago.

Barty Crouch had found his way up the ladder and into the top seat. Although many had wanted Dumbledore for the job, he refused, knowing that it was Hogwarts where he belonged. That gave Crouch the chance he had been lusting for. With strict laws and a harsh nature, Crouch gained myriads of faithful followers. Growing in popularity, the former Head of Department of Magical Co-operation and was voted in. From the day he became the Minister of Magic, the wizarding world changed. New laws were made that gave Aurors more power than they ever had, allowing them to use the Unforgivables when battling a suspected dark wizard.

At first, the rate of Death Eater appearances decreased rapidly and for a moment people had begun to hope that maybe Voldemort had been defeated. But how wrong they were. Voldemort made the public pay whatever they owned him thrice with more deadly attacks than ever. The people wavered, and Crouch's popularity diminished. Most of the old laws were restored and everything went back to normal, or at least as normal as things could be.

Whilst all those political battles were going on, the Order had done everything within their power to refrain Voldemort from gaining more power. They fought at night, battling against steadily increasing Death Eaters whilst their own numbers decreased. They lost so many friends and relatives that it was hard to fight. But Dumbledore pulled them along somehow, and they made it through. Admittedly, without the old man, they would be nowhere.

It wasn't just human support Voldemort had; it was also from giants, trolls, dangerous magical beasts and the worst of them all, dementors. The former sinister guards of Azkaban revolted against the Ministry at an uprising ten years ago. They attacked all Aurors present at the time and freed all captives. It was a major blow the light side. All the Death Eaters that they had risked (and some lost) their lives for had been freed. For weeks, people were down-trodden.

No one ever dared to go back to Azkaban. Though the dementors weren't there anymore, the mere place reminded everyone of the nightmares of former evil. The Ministry didn't bother to reconstruct the prison because any Death Eater caught was sentenced a death penalty, another new law introduced by Crouch. Snape had told Dumbledore that Azkaban was empty- he had been there with the Dark Lord. Snape seemed rather shaken when he described the state the prison was in. It was obvious that though the evil inhabitants were gone, they had left a permanent imprint on the place. Azkaban was abandoned, and Dumbledore hoped that it would never be resurrected, at least until the war was over.

Once again, everything came back to the war.

Dumbledore had taken note of Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom during their childhood and watched them carefully during the Sorting. But it was impossible to know whom Voldemort, being Voldemort, would choose. Neville was hard working and very advanced for his age, so on the surface he would be a stronger opponent, but Harry on the other hand, was brighter and spontaneous. Both boys looked promising as excellent wizards, but would they be good enough to face Voldemort?

They would have to wait and see.

Of course, neither boy knew about the prophecy- they were much too young now. But the problem was, when they were old enough, should they be told the truth or should they be kept in the dark? If they knew, perhaps they would study harder, and have more chances of defeating Voldemort. But again, with the unpredictability of fate, maybe things were better done in blindness rather than hope.

Dumbledore sighed again. In these tedious ten years, he aged more than he ever had.

Looking down at his desk, Dumbledore picked up the long list of names of newly recruited Death Eaters from Snape. Peering through his half-moon glasses, he read the first three names.

_Davis Perks  
__Marlina Parkinson  
__Andrew Johnson_

Two out of the three were old pupils, and Dumbledore knew that Davis' daughter, Sally-Anne was a first-year at Hogwarts. Dumbledore remembered that Davis was in Hufflepuff and he seemed to have been a prefect as well. What could've changed someone so dramatically? Fear? True faith? Dumbledore did not know, but more and more wizards and witches were joining Voldemort.

There are four kinds of Death Eaters now, thought Dumbledore sullenly. The first kind is those we know are Death Eaters, but cannot capture even if they are out freely in the public because we don't have any _solid _evidence. The most hated one was Lucius Malfoy.

Anyone with half a mind knew that the elder Malfoy was a faithful supporter of the Dark Lord, yet no one could have any proof that he was. He always seemed to just slip out of their grasp whenever they were close to catching him in action. Malfoy's cunningness and connections with authorities of power made him almost untouchable. Everyone would discuss his doings in secret but never in public, remembering the fate of Lovegood.

Lovegood was the editor of _The Quibbler_ and in one issue he claimed that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater who bred fire-breathing pizies, whatever they were. Of course, anything in _The Quibbler _was known to be pretty much utter rubbish, but that didn't stop Malfoy from taking revenge. Lovegood's wife found her husband's dead body next to her the morning after the edition was published. But it wasn't the fact that he just died, it was _how _he died. Both of Lovegood's eye sockets were empty- his eyes had been ripped out. What was worse was that the eyeballs, still stained with his own blood, were later found in his mouth. After that event, if there was a single person in the wizarding world before who had any doubts whether Lucius Malfoy was truly evil, they were now completely convinced.

Dumbledore pushed out the horrific images of the eyeless Lovegood, and continued his thoughts on Death Eaters. The next kind was the ones who were renowned Death Eaters, but they never managed to catch, like Antonin Dolohov and the Lestrange couple. They were hated, but nothing could be done. Perhaps they were just too good for the Aurors.

The third kind was the ones that were spies for the light side. Like Snape, there were many who were willing to put their lives at risk for a chance to gain some information of Voldemort. Most suffered terrible fates when they were discovered, and Dumbledore hoped that Snape would not eventually have to face the same consequences.

The fourth kind was the most dangerous of them all. Enemies like Lucius Malfoy were not great to have, but at least you _knew _that they were enemies. The worst kind of enemies is those enemies you don't know you have. Death Eaters were everywhere, hidden under masks of family and friendship. These days, few could be trusted- you simply didn't know who is really on your side and who is using you. Voldemort's way of manipulating people against each other is notorious. He could turn husbands against wives, best friends against each other and even mothers against their own children.

Dumbledore knew that within the Order, there were numerous spies, just like how within Voldemort's circle of Death Eaters there were spies for the light side. Dumbledore did not fear these spies. But it was frustrating not knowing who was trustworthy. Some much information must be strictly kept between only a few people. Less than ten people knew the fact that Snape was a spy, for example. This secrecy was of course for his own safety, but at other times, Dumbledore feared that one day Snape would not die at the hands of Death Eaters or Voldemort, but at one of their own, thinking that the Potions Master was evil.

With the ironical cruel way that fate works, anything was possible. Dumbledore just hoped that after all Snape had done, all he had sacrificed, he would get what he truly deserved.

One of Moody's favorite sayings echoed in Dumbledore's mind, "True heroes are forgotten." Will that be Snape's fate?

The grandfather clock struck twelve.

Dumbledore stroked Fawkes gently, and gazed out of the small arched window into the dark depth of the midnight sky.

In a world of chaos like this, would they ever have a hope of winning the war?

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the late update. Big thanks to everyone who reviewed. I really really appreciated it. I'll try to update soon next time. I hope you'ved enjoyed this chapter. Please review and help me make this a better story.

Disclaimer: There is a paragraph within this chapter that was copied out of the first book. It does not belong to me. See if you can find it.

That's all readers,

Till next time,

Amyranth.


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